


Questions and Answers

by nagi_schwarz



Series: The Oppenheimer Effect [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6714070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: <i>Stargate Atlantis, Rodney Mckay/ John Sheppard, Blue Citrus Hearts.</i></p><p>In which Rodney has a fever, John panics, and also he might be a human light switch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questions and Answers

True fact: if Rodney was going to keep sleeping at John’s place, he needed to get a bigger bed, because John’s bed was really not made for two people. John came awake abruptly, aware of stifling heat. He squinted at his watch and frowned. His alarm wasn’t due to go off for at least an hour. Why was it so hot? He fumbled for his phone, fired up the weather app. It wasn’t unnaturally hot outside. And the he realized - the heat was coming from Rodney. John was groggy enough that several terrible puns about Rodney’s hotness crossed his mind, and then he really registered. Rodney was burning up. He was curled in a ball and shivering and his hair was drenched with sweat.

John pressed a hand to his forehead, winced at how hot and clammy his skin was. He tucked the blankets around Rodney’s shivering form and padded down the hall to the bathroom he shared with Evan, rooted around in the cabinets for a thermometer and one of those plastic thermometer caps - because hygiene and also Rodney was kind of a germaphobe - and then crawled back into bed with Rodney. He shook Rodney’s shoulder gently.

“Hey, Rodney, open up, I need to take your temperature.”

Rodney’s eyes fluttered open, but they were glazed over. “No,” he mumbled. “Not the blue citrus hearts. They’re poison. Don’t make me. Don’t make me. I won’t tell. You can’t make me.”

Was Rodney dreaming? He didn’t talk in his sleep (unlike Evan who, on bad nights, walked in his sleep).

“Rodney, please, I need to get your temperature.”

Rodney tossed his head. “No. Won’t talk.”

John was no medical expert, and he had zero experience with dealing with other people’s illness. Sure he could tell when one of his students was sick and needed to be sent to the nurse and would probably be sent home, but this was out of his realm of expertise. He set the thermometer aside and went to knock on Evan’s door.

Evan answered, bare-chested, sleep pants low on his hips, hair askew and drool dried on one corner of his mouth. “John? Everything all right?”

“Rodney’s really sick. He was fine last night, but he’s got a super high temperature now, and I think he might be delirious. I - you have nieces and nephews, right? You know what to do when people are sick.”

Evan scrubbed a hand over his face. John carefully avoided looking at the scars on Evan’s chest.

“You’re an adult, John. You know what to do when people are sick.”

“Regular sick, yeah. When people were super sick, I always just...sent them to the base infirmary.”

“Right.” Evan groped at his dresser stand, grabbed a shirt, tugged it on, and followed John back down the hall.

Rodney was curled up in a tiny ball, having somehow piled all the blankets on himself, and was shivering so hard the entire bed shook.

Evan reached into the bundle of blankets and checked Rodney’s temperature, winced. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad. First things first, let’s try and break his fever. See if you can’t get him to sit up. I’ll go get some tylenol.” He headed off to the bathroom, so John climbed back into the bed. He managed to coax a still-mumbling Rodney into a sitting position, sitting behind him so Rodney was tucked against his chest, still wrapped in the blankets. Rodney gave off heat like a furnace, and John wondered how he’d slept for so long without noticing.

Evan returned with a glass of water and a couple of tylenol. When they tried to get Rodney to take the pills, he started protesting and thrashing, saying, “No, not the blue citrus hearts, they’re poison, poison!”

“He’s allergic to citrus,” John said apologetically.

Evan blinked blearily. Then he said, “Rodney, it’s fine. These are from Doc Fraiser. They’ll help you feel better.”

“Doc Fraiser?” John asked.

“CMO under the Mountain,” Evan said.

Rodney blinked, started to reach for the pills. Then he froze. “No. Janet’s dead. KIA. You’re not really Evan, are you? Are you a replicator? No! I won’t tell you anything!”

Evan’s eyes went wide. “No, Rodney, no, I’m not a - a replicator.” The look he shot John was inscrutable. “Damn. I didn’t know - didn’t know they’d lost Fraiser.”

“Maybe we should call someone from the base,” John suggested.

Evan nodded. “You try and get him to take them, all right?” He handed John the pills and water. “I’ll go wake Cam.”

John murmured softly to Rodney, soothing promises, _Just take the pills, you’ll feel better, it’ll all stop hurting, the blue citrus hearts won’t hurt you_ , but Rodney refused.

“Isn’t _Blue Citrus Hearts_  some kind of gay bildungsroman indie film?” JD stood in the doorway, watching the scene carefully.

“No clue,” John said. “He won’t take the pills.”

“High fever’s not as dangerous in adults as it is in kids,” JD said, “but if he’s delirious, that’s not good. Here, lemme try.” He crossed the room to the bed, sat down beside Rodney. “McKay,” he said, deepening his voice, “I know we don’t always get along, but I need you to do this for me. I need you to take the medicine. If you don’t, they won’t let us back through the gate. If you want brownies from the commissary, you have to take the pills.”

Rodney blinked muzzily. “O’Neill? What’s wrong with your voice?”

O’Neill. JD’s uncle. Of course Rodney knew JD’s uncle, who also worked under the Mountain.

“Caught a cold, same as you,” JD said smoothly. “Now c’mon, take the pills, so we can go home. You wanna see Carter, right?”

“Carter’s hot,” Rodney mumbled, and JD got that sour look on his face whenever someone said that about Sam, who John remembered from flight school.

“She’s not John, though. John’s beautiful.” Rodney giggled.

JD sighed. “Don’t ask, don’t tell, remember?”

“John ‘n’ I are both civilians now. Gimme the pills. I want brownies.”

Relief flooded John’s limbs, and he gave Rodney the two little tablets and the glass of water. Rodney took the pills and drained the glass of water. If not for JD’s quick reflexes, he would have dropped it. JD set the glass aside, and then he helped John ease Rodney back down to the mattress.

Cam and Evan appeared in the doorway.

“JD got him to take the pills,” John said, and he wasn’t quite sure how. Had JD been deliberately impersonating his uncle? How would JD know what his uncle got up to under the Mountain, JD who was a kid and a civilian compared to John? And what relationship had JD's uncle had with Rodney, that he could convince Rodney to do something even while he was delirious?

“Delirium’s pretty serious,” Cam said, “so I put in a call to the base. Had to do some real fast talking to get them to let me talk to anyone about Rodney, seeing how I’m not his next of kin. They wouldn’t tell me who it is, but I’m guessing it’s you, John. Threw down some Medal of Honor and name-dropped Carter, and that got me results. I spoke to the new CMO, Dr. Lam, and she said she’d dispatch someone to come check on him, but for us to call back if his fever doesn’t break.”

“Thanks,” John said.

“Can’t have him die on our watch, can we?” JD said, standing up. “That’d look pretty bad to the neighbors. Four bachelor reprobates and a respected scientist dies while in our care? They’d run us out of town on a rail.”

“Want me to call you in sick?” Evan asked.

John bit his lip, looked down at Rodney. “I -”

“I’ll call you in sick,” Evan said. “In the meantime, since we’re all awake, how about a bigger breakfast? I’m feeling like...pancakes and bacon.”

JD perked up. “And hash browns?”

Cam huffed. “You’re such a bottomless pit. C’mon. We’ll bring you a tray, John.”

“Thanks,” John said. He huddled down under the blankets beside Rodney, close but not quite touching, and curled a hand over Rodney’s hip, rubbing gently.

Rodney murmured unintelligibly to himself, but he seemed quieter. Was it John’s imagination, or was his temperature going down already?

The others went for their morning run - they all ran every morning, including Cam, who rolled along faster than any of them - so John took his chance to hop in the shower first. Evan, who was distressingly organized, had arranged a rotation for every day of the week. Since it was Tuesday, it was technically John’s turn to cook and then shower last (JD’s turn to set the table and shower first, Cam’s turn to iron their work shirts and shower second, Evan’s turn to the do the dishes and shower third), but today wasn’t like other days, so John was showering first. If someone from the base was going to come over, he needed to be at least a little presentable.

John was out of the shower and in clean clothes and sitting beside Rodney again, fretting over him, when the others returned from their run. Evan set to cooking, and the other two took their showers and did their chores. As promised, Evan called John in sick - family emergency - and then he brought John a tray full of food before he went for his own shower.

All three men stopped by to check on John and Rodney before they fired up the van to go to work, and then John was left alone to fret over Rodney some more.

He pressed a hand to Rodney’s forehead, and yes, his temperature was going down. Rodney had stopped sleep-talking, but he was still shivering.

John was ready to fire up his phone and call his sister-in-law. Kathy and Dave had two girls. Surely Kathy knew what to do when someone was this sick.

The sound of the doorbell was a welcome intrusion. John hurried to the front door, and there was a man in a button-down shirt and slacks, white coat over one arm. He was carrying a black doctor’s bag.

“Hello,” he said, and he had a Scottish accent. “Carolyn asked me to come by and check on Rodney, says he has a terribly high fever.”

“JD managed to convince him to take a couple of tylenol and I think his temperature is down, but he’s still pretty bad,” John said. “C’mon in.”

“Thank you. I’m Dr. Carson Beckett, by the way.”

“John Sheppard."

"Rodney’s next of kin. Excellent.” Beckett had bright blue eyes and a pleasant smile. He seemed like a nice man.

The knowledge that John was Rodney’s next of kin too made his heart thump oddly in his chest. John led Carson to his bedroom, where Rodney had burrowed under the blankets again.

Beckett tugged on his white coat and opened his doctor’s bag, tugged on a pair of sterile gloves, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Rodney, it’s me, Carson.”

Rodney opened his eyes. “Evil leprechaun.”

“Leprechauns are Irish,” Beckett said, “but you must be feeling better, if you have the energy to insult me so.”

“So cold,” Rodney muttered, teeth chattering.

Beckett fished a thermometer out of his bag. “I need to take your temperature. Open up.”

Rodney obeyed, and he was definitely doing better, right? After a minute, he spat the thermometer into Beckett’s waiting hand.

“Still higher than I like, but you’re out of danger.” Beckett took up Rodney’s wrist, checked his pulse. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

Rodney shrugged. “Got really cold in the middle of the night.”

“Did you notice anything wrong with him?” Beckett asked John, who shook his head.

“Last night he was totally fine. Well, as fine as he could be, after getting his ass handed to him at Mario Kart like that.”

“I’m still learning,” Rodney protested. “I felt kind of...sluggish? After everything that went on with, you now, the emergency drill.”

There had been some kind of bizarre emergency drill at the Mountain that required everyone to be locked down on the base for three days. John couldn't imagine what was so perilous about deep space telemetry that the base would ever need to be locked down for any length of time, let alone three days.

“I figured it was just the stress of being shut in the same enclosed space as Bill Lee for seventy-two hours,” Rodney said.

Beckett frowned. “What do you mean by sluggish?”

“Just a little more tired, head a bit stuffy. Nothing to worry about, though.” Rodney shrugged.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Beckett said. He caught John’s eye. “Let him rest, give him plenty of fluids. Don’t let him near his laptop. As long as his fever keeps going down, he should be fine. If it goes up at all, or he develops any other symptoms, call me immediately. Do you have a piece of paper? I can give you my direct line. Faster than going through the switchboard.”

John rooted around in the nightstand drawer, came up with a notebook and a pen. Beckett stripped off his gloves, then wrote his number on a blank page.

“I hope Rodney will be a better patient for you than he’s been for me,” Beckett said. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Major Sheppard.”

“Thanks for coming all this way for a fever,” John said, and he felt foolish. Because really, all he’d had to do was give Rodney some damn tylenol.

“We take the health of our scientists very seriously,” Beckett said. “Need them alive and healthy to save the world every day.”

John was surprised by the utter lack of sarcasm in Beckett’s words.

“And I mean it,” Beckett said, once it was just the two of them at the door, “if anything changes, do not hesitate to call.”

John nodded. “I won’t.”

By the time he made it back to the bedroom, Rodney had fallen asleep, still shivering, but definitely more restful than before. John pulled the blankets up around him, then took his breakfast tray into the kitchen. He did the dishes, as was only fair, and then went back to sit beside Rodney. He dug out his old copy of _War and Peace_  (JD adored Russian novels, which was so bizarre in a kid his age, but he’d managed to talk John into trying one) and read, one hand on Rodney’s ribs so he could feel the man breathe.

Rodney woke every couple of hours to ask for a drink, and around one in the afternoon John insisted he wake up and stay up to eat something.

Or drink something, since all Rodney really had appetite for was some clear broth.

But his fever was completely broken, and John felt like such an idiot for getting so worked up over a simple fever. After eating, Rodney perked up, seemed more energetic, and the first thing he asked was for his laptop.

“Dr. Beckett told me not to give it to you,” John said.

“But I’m bored.” Rodney actually pouted at John.

And - damn. That was surprisingly effective. But John remembered how worried he’d been, and he held his ground.

“No. I have sudoku puzzle books and fiction. We could watch a movie. You’re not working.”

“Carson said for you not to give me my laptop, not that I couldn’t work.” Rodney cleared his throat. “Listen, there’s a file in my bag. Bring me the file.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Pretty sure reading a file is about the luddite equivalent of using a laptop.”

“Please?” Rodney wheedled.

John affected a hurt look. “I’m not entertaining enough for you? Should I just go and leave you to your file?”

Rodney shook his head quickly. “No, you’re pretty entertaining. I just, uh, don’t think I’d have the energy for the type of entertainment you’re offering. Besides, you probably shouldn’t kiss me. I’m probably contagious.”

“We slept together all night,” John said. “The ship on that contagion thing has already sailed.”

“Sleeping with you is really nice,” Rodney said. “But you need a bigger bed.”

“You know, I was thinking just the same thing.”

“Great minds think alike. So, bring me my laptop bag?”

“No laptop, though.” John put down his book and crossed the room to where Rodney’s laptop bag was beside his overnight bag. He unzipped it and lifted the laptop out, waved it so Rodney could see, and deliberately set it aside.

He went to grab the file, and then something tumbled out of the laptop bag. It was dark green and shaped kind of like a tiny coffin, only it was made of what appeared to be leaded glass.

“Oops,” John said.

Rodney peered at him. “What do you mean, oops?”

“Sorry, just dropped this thing you had in your bag.”

“Did you break it? It’s very delicate,” Rodney said, crawling to the edge of the bed.

John picked it up. “No, it’s fine, it -”

It started to glow.

John yelped and dropped it. It went out.

No. Impossible. When he’d touched it, it had felt warm, and he’d felt a prickling sensation along his spine, like he hadn’t felt since - since the stupid good luck charm Holland had given him in flight school.

Rodney’s eyes were very wide. “Did you just turn it on?”

“I - no,” John said. “I just touched it. I’m sorry. I didn’t break it, did I?”

“Pick it up again,” Rodney said.

John was alarmed. “Rodney, don’t get all worked up. I’ll put the thing back in your laptop bag and we can pretend I never saw it. It’s probably classified, right? Lie down and I’ll bring you the file, okay?”

“Pick it up,” Rodney insisted.

John did so, hesitant, and there it was, that same warm, prickling sensation. The thing lit up, bright like an emerald with a flame at its core.

Rodney said, “Give me my phone. I need to make a call.”

John set the green thing carefully down on the desk - it winked out immediately - and hurried to give Rodney his cell phone.

“Get me Carter and Landry,” Rodney said. “No, I’m not delirious. Yes, I’m sick, but I’m not insane. Yes, I realized I was called in sick, and it was a legitimate call, but I need to speak to them both. Now.” There was a pause, and then Rodney said, “Sam, I need you to round up an NDA for John. He needs to be read in right now. And send everybody - send Zelenka and Bill and Beckett. He’ll need to run a test, but I’m sure John has it. Because the device? It turned on when he touched it. Yes, he just touched it. Do you need me to send you a picture? I can send you a picture. For the last time, I’m not delirious, I - John! Pick it up and come over here.”

So they staged an awkward photo shoot of John holding the glowing device, and Rodney fired the pictures off to Sam in an email, and half an hour later, a bunch of Rodney’s coworkers John had never even heard of appeared at the house. Zelenka was a hyper little Czech man with wild hair who could barely speak English he was so excited. Bill Lee whipped out some kind of meter and began waving it over the green thing John was still holding.

John hadn’t seen Sam Carter since flight school, hadn’t known her all that well because she was a couple of years ahead of him, but she was just as lovely as he remembered.

“John,” she said. “I’d have broken out the dress blues, but Rodney was insistent we get here as soon as possible.”

“What’s going on?” John asked. “Am I some kind of human light switch?”

Major Paul Davis was in his dress blues. He opened his briefcase and handed John a sheaf papers so thick John’s wrist ached at the mere thought of signing them.

“First,” Major Davis said, “we need to have a chat.”

“Just sign it,” Rodney said.

“Rodney,” Sam said sharply, “let John have a chance to process.” But she caught John’s gaze, and he had the sense that she was just as eager for him to sign as Rodney was.

“Think about it,” Rodney said in a low voice. “I know you think the whole deep space telemetry thing is a lame story. And it is. You’ll get to know the truth.”

“I don’t want to quit my job,” John began.

“We wouldn’t ask you to,” Sam said, and Zelenka and Bill emitted little sounds of distress, but Rodney glared at them, and they ducked their heads and shuffled behind Beckett.

Major Davis cast a sidelong glance at Rodney and said, “John, can I call you John? Let’s have our chat somewhere a bit more discreet.”

John set down the device, which winked out again, and followed Major Davis into the kitchen.

The NDA was above and beyond the kind John had signed when he’d agreed to do covert ops rescue missions. Bigger than ordinary national security. Major Davis was very solemn and serious as he explained the weight of the confidentiality, the classified nature of the work going on under the mountain. The words ‘global panic’ and ‘mass riots’ were bandied about more than once. The penalties for violating the NDA seemed extreme, but Major Davis acted like a violation was tantamount to treason.

John quizzed him extensively. Was he going to have to quit his job? Would this affect his relationship with Rodney? Or his housemates?

“I expect,” Major Davis said, “that your signing this will make your relationship with Dr. McKay and your housemates more open.”

John took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll sign.” So he did. His signature was illegible by the time he signed the last page.

Major Davis thanked him, whisked the NDA into his briefcase, and then summoned Sam.

Who proceeded to tell him - with many eager but unhelpful interjections from Bill and Zelenka - about the Stargate Program.

John’s mind spun. Aliens. Multiple galaxies. Near death and destruction. Cam Mitchell, shot down while defending the planet from total annihilation by a megalomaniacal alien parasite. Evan Lorne, kidnapped and tortured by aliens on an alien planet during a mining operation for ore used to build intergalactic space battle cruisers. And JD - the adolescent clone of the man he’d claimed was his uncle, Major General Jack O’Neill. Sam herself had been through the Stargate hundreds of times, had been on the flagship team of space explorers for a decade, led the team herself after O’Neill was promoted, worked with aliens on a regular basis. And John himself was part alien, had some kind of magical alien gene that allowed him to activate and use advanced alien technology, like the green thing Rodney had taken home for study.

Bill and Zelenka ducked back to the bedroom when Rodney shouted for them, and John was left staring at Sam, overwhelmed.

The front door opened, and JD said, “Hey, why is there an Air Force car parked out front? Is Rodney all right?” He trailed off when he came into the kitchen and saw Sam. “Carter.”

“JD,” she said.

“Is everything five by five?” JD asked.

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, and that was just weird, because she sounded just like she was addressing a superior officer.

“You can dispense with the ‘sir’,” JD said flatly. “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?”

“Too many.”

“No. My choice, not yours. Although maybe we should do this where little pitchers don’t have such big ears.”

“John signed an NDA. He has the Ancient gene.”

JD raised his eyebrows. “Does he now?”

John nodded. “Yeah. Beckett took some of my blood, ran a test.”

“So you told him about…?”

“Everything,” Sam said.

“Everything?” JD asked.

“Everything,” John said. “About the program. Cam’s medal of honor. Evan’s PTSD. Your tendency to act like you were born an old man.”

“Watch it, whippersnapper,” JD said automatically, and he winced. “It’s less funny, now that you know the truth, isn’t it?”

“Now I get why you utterly refuse to date,” John said. “And why the girls at school having crushes on you weirds you out so terribly. I kinda thought you were gay, to be honest.”

“Bi, actually,” JD said, “but I can really never date again, so it’s kinda moot.”

Sam’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, right. Pretend you don’t know that, the next time you see the old guy. I take it Rodney’s okay, though?”

“He’s actually very excited now that someone can turn that thing on,” Sam said. She patted John on the wrist. “Take a day to process, all right? And see if you can’t get Rodney to calm down.”

Down the hall, Beckett shouted, “For heaven’s sake, lie down and relax! You’re supposed to be resting. The rest of you, get out. Rodney will be back to work as soon as I say so and no sooner. Do not call him, do not text him, and don’t bother to email him, because I am confiscating his laptop.”

Cam and Evan came into the kitchen from the garage, came up short when they saw Sam.

Evan straightened up. “Colonel Carter.”

“I was just leaving,” she said. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to talk.”

“Talk? What about?” Cam asked. “Don’t you want to stay for some macaroons?”

But Sam was gone.

“About stargates,” John said.

Evan and Cam both looked horrified.

“Don’t worry,” JD said. “He signed an NDA. So, questions?”

John, as it turned out, had a lot of them. Starting with replicators.


End file.
